and darling, i'll suffer alone
by Unfortunate Fates
Summary: When Blaine joined the New Directions, he'd been excited by the idea of using his speed to good in the world. After a twist of fate, though, he's stuck between hurting those he loves himself or watching as they're hurt by someone else.  Superpower au.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi guys! I've been working on this on tumblr for a little while now, and decided to share it with all of you lovely readers. It's an au where the New Directions all have different super-powers (which hopefully reflect their personalities for the most part), and try to fight crime the best they can. Only problem: I love Blangst with all my heart, and I couldn't help but make Blaine the focus for this story. It's predominantly Klaine, but everyone makes many appearances. Side-note: I'm still freaking out over last night's episode, so feel free to fangirl about it to me. I'll fangirl right back :)

Happy reading!

...

It was supposed to be a fun outing. Sam was going to fly out and find a perfect picnic area, Blaine was supposed to clear a path to get there, Kurt was supposed to freeze anything in their way. Mercedes was going to check the weather and Artie was going to see what he could of the area's past and that of everything around them. Rachel had all of the information about the Warblers locked up tight in her mind, and they were going to enjoy a peaceful moment out of headquarters if it killed them.

Unfortunately, it nearly did.

…

You see, the New Directions formed when five misfit, miserable, powerful kids decided to take matters into their own hands. Kurt, who could shoot ice from his hands; Rachel, who remembered absolutely _everything_; Finn, who had enough strength to lift a refrigerator one-handed; Mercedes, who was deeply in tune with nature; and Artie, who could see the past, no matter place or time. Maybe they were always supposed to find each other. Maybe they weren't. But after that first fateful meeting, they've never been the same.

Kurt learned to control his anger, because being numbed with scalding water every day by those _Neanderthals_ had led him to become bitter and out of practice. Rachel learned, well, tact, because using someone's exact words against them while recalling the shirt they were wearing and the stain on the left shoulder is never a good idea, especially if that someone can shoot flames. Finn learned how to exercise less force in general; all of those broken mugs didn't help the tension within the headquarters. Mercedes learned to use her powers for good, and to make sure Finn took his coat with him when they went out in the winter. _I see a blizzard coming up, boy, so you'd best be bringing that coat of yours_. Whether it was true or not was beside the point. And Artie learned how useful the past could really be.

They learned together, of course, and though the goodbyes were hard, they'd moved in together to a headquarters, constructed with care and precision. They could save the world with this much power congregated at once. They needed reinforcements, sure, but they could save the world. They could.

And it was this idea that intoxicated every one of them until they could barely see straight. They could be heroes.

They could.

…

"I found it!" shouts Sam as he swoops back down to normal heights. Mercedes shakes her head, muttering about wind and air currents and the dangers of flying.

"Let's go, then!" says Blaine, and he leads the way. Kurt is right on his back, frosting any branches in their path and adding a blanket of snow as a decorative touch. Blaine suddenly darts to the side, forgetting once again that he's the only one that can honestly move that fast. It takes about a second for the shorter boy to be back with the group.

"Everything looks clear! Just keep moving at this pace and it shouldn't be far."

Kurt rolls his eyes. Blaine has never been good with judging distances, sense of speed and direction completely thrown off by his abilities.

"Just go," says Kurt finally. Blaine is practically vibrating. "Set it up so we can just start eating when we get there."

"Awesome!" says Blaine, laughing, and pecks Kurt unexpectedly on the cheek before running off into the woods, occasional snapping branch the only sign that he's still out there somewhere.

Blaine doesn't know it yet, but he'll come to regret this decision. Come to regret it dearly. Now, though, all he feels is the adrenaline of letting loose: pure, unbridled, free.

…

When Blaine first joined New Directions, he wasn't ready, not really. Everyone was so experienced with their powers, so precise and careful and perfect all the time. All Blaine knew was how to run, and he did it well. It wasn't enough, but it was something.

They decided to keep him.

"What use is running?" Santana had asked him one day. "Sure, it's great for _you_, Hobbit McLightning-Pants, but why should we keep you? You can run off, escape, be safe. We can watch you leave us in your dust."

"I want to make a difference. I want to do good."

Santana had looked around, disinterested, and teleported a donut into her hands. She then shrugged and disappeared to who-knows-where, only signs that she'd been there the indents of her heeled shoes in the new carpet beneath his feet.

That was when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Don't listen to her, she's bitter about Brittany wandering off again. She'll be back. And so will you."

Blaine looked up to find Kurt looking back at him. It shouldn't have been surprising, what with the cold radiating on his shoulders, but it was still nice.

"She's right, you know," he'd told the boy. Kurt was a perfect paradox of strength and fragility, and Blaine could never approach that.

"No, she isn't. You have a good heart. You wouldn't leave anyone behind. You move in tomorrow, new kid," and with a crooked smile, Blaine was sold.

He ran home so fast that night that he developed blisters in his feet. It took him all of thirteen minutes to pack everything he owned.

He didn't say goodbye to his parents or his brother that night. He hasn't seen them since.

…

It takes him about fifteen minutes to realize that something's wrong. There's no more rustling of leaves, no more good-natured calls forward, no more _how much longer _or _I'm tired._

Nothing. Just silence. It's eerie enough that he starts to retrace his footsteps, slowly at first, then frantic and wild and panicked because there's no sign of them anywhere.

"Looking for this?" a voice behind him asks, and Blaine skids to a halt. Ice runs through his veins, because he knows that voice. It haunts his nightmares. He turns abruptly, and catches a glimpse of Kurt, beautiful Kurt, eyes wide and warning from where he's tied to a tree. The rest of New Directions are scattered, but Blaine only has eyes for this boy, strong and terrified, gag in his mouth. Things seem to move in slow motion, and he feels like he's underwater, drowning and sluggish.

Kurt's anguished cry is the last thing he hears before everything goes black.

...

Review?

Also, updates on this should be short but frequent!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: to those of you put this on story alert, thanks! I'm glad you want to see more! To be honest, I'd kinda sorta hoped for at least one review on the first chapter, but thanks anyways for reading :) Here's chapter 2!

...

He wakes up disoriented. This isn't headquarters. This isn't Brittany talking to (and getting responses from) her stuffed animals, or Tina fixing the electronics. This isn't home, not by a long shot. If he were in headquarters, there would be the smell of coffee in the air, pancakes burning, people singing and humming and occasionally yelling when someone's too far away to hear properly.

This isn't his bed. He's on a table. _Calm down, Blaine_, he thinks, _relax. Focus_. Strapped to a table, white everywhere. White ceiling, white table, bright white lights shining down into his eyes.

"You're awake, then," says the voice, and Blaine starts violently, rattling the restraints keeping him tied to the table. He tests them out, then seeing that his wrists and ankles are shackled down, and there's a strap across his chest and stomach. This can't be good. He's new to the New Directions, he's never been this close to a villain before, never.

"What do you want?" he demands, trying to sound brave, but his voice shakes wildly and his breath comes in shallow pants.

"You, of course." This comes with a chilling laugh. "You see, my assistants have been of little use to me lately. All too slow, too bulky, too opinionated. You'd be the perfect helper."

"Why would I ever want to help you?" asks Blaine when he finds his voice.

Sebastian laughs again and rolls his eyes. "First, dear boy, let's take a look at the position you're in. I mean, I wouldn't be speaking up if I were you." Blaine rolls his eyes angrily, continuing to struggle. It's probably no use, but he can't just lie there. "I figured you'd be annoying, though, so I took extra precautions to make sure you wouldn't be any trouble. Watch this."

A screen rolls out from the ceiling, and the table tilts to a seventy-degree angle. The blood rushes to Blaine's feet but he manages to stay calm. There's some static in the beginning of the video, and then Sebastian narrates.

_Here, we have a bracelet,_ speaks the velvet voice, and a thin metal circle appears on the screen, dainty enough to be decorative. _It shrinks to fit snugly around any wrist, no matter size or shape. It molds to the wearer and is, in effect, impossible to remove. You might be wondering why you should care._ The picture then zooms well out, until an entire arm is showing with the bracelet tight against the pale skin. _These bracelets can do a number of things. First, they conduct electricity excellently. Second, they conduct heat well. Third, they can send the nerves into frenzy, paralyzing the body or sending spasms through it. And lastly, they can kill. Easily._ The picture zooms out even more, and sick realization starts to course through his veins.

The arm belongs to none other than Kurt Hummel.

"This is a live feed, by the way," mentions Sebastian, and once the image is clear he can see that Kurt is sitting alone in his room, lying on his bed. His eyes are red and puffy from crying. Blaine's heart breaks just a little bit.

"Let's test it out, shall we?" Sebastian reaches into his pocket to remove a remote control, and Blaine screams, "No!"

Sebastian seems to take pleasure in Blaine's exclamation. "What level for the shock, then? Come on, don't be shy. How about a six for that indignant tone when you woke up? The rolling of the eyes?"

Blaine can only watch helplessly as Kurt gets punished for Blaine's unwitting mistakes. Sebastian twists the dial to 6 and waits for an agonizing moment. And then he presses the red button.

The effect is instantaneous. Kurt shrieks and spasms, body stiffening and hand clawing at the bracelet. The tear tracks, having dried, are back full force, and Blaine is screaming at Sebastian to stop, stop, please stop, he'll do anything, just stop!

"Oh, _now_ you'll do anything," smirks Sebastian, and after two more seconds, releases the button. Kurt is now hunched in on himself, panting from pain and exertion, little whimpers still spilling from his lips. Mercedes comes into view, and Blaine spies no bracelet on her wrist. He sighs a little bit in relief, but it's short-lived.

"Now, of course, we can test the other two functions. The last one we'll save, for the time being, because that isn't nearly as much fun."

"No, God no, please don't. I'll be your sidekick, I'll do whatever you tell me, I swear. Just don't hurt him." Tears of frustration are welling up in Blaine's eyes. This is his fault; he's such an idiot. Kurt deserves so much better.

On screen, they're both examining the bracelet, and Kurt looks incredibly wary of the thing, holding it out to the side while Mercedes gets in close.

"Let's play a game, then. If Mercedes leaves within the next five minutes, we play with the other two functions. If not, he gets out of this one free. Deal?"

"Please don't do this," whispers Blaine, all of the fight draining out of his system. He strains his back to keep himself quasi-lifted up, elbows awkward underneath him. A countdown appears at the bottom left corner of the screen, and four minutes and forty-three seconds remain before he can somewhat relax.

The minutes are tense, but soon Kurt and Mercedes are involved in a conversation, complete with gestures and tears and shaking and hugging, and the time ticks away to nothing. Blaine sags against the table in relief. Kurt's screams still echo in his ears, and there's something drying and shifting on his face even though he has no idea when he started crying.

"What do you want me to do?" he asks resolutely, but he's shaking.

"That's more like it," says Sebastian with a smile that crawls up Blaine skin. "Your task is simple. Stop the New Directions from succeeding. If they try to stop me, you stop them. If they try to take something, you stop them. If they try to hurt a Warbler, you stop them. If you fail to comply, we all know what happens. You'll be trained, of course, to fight against them. You'll be the best and brightest, I know it. And you know the consequences if you fail."

He then shuts his eyes, and Sebastian's voice is suddenly _in_ Blaine's mind. It's incredibly uncomfortable and invasive. "I'm not the only one with a superpower, you know. I'd love something a bit more practical, but communication skills will suffice, so I can give you direct orders. Your first training session is in two hours. There's food in your room, and a bathroom you can get washed up in." He wants to ask how long he's been out, for everything to be set up so precisely, but remains silent out of pure fear.

The restraints suddenly retract, and Blaine is free. He wants to rip out Sebastian's throat, but the remote control is still in his hand, threatening. Instead, he walks to his room, docile, and moves into the bathroom.

When he gets there, he goes to the toilet and is violently sick, losing everything he'd eaten and then some. He won't be able to sleep tonight, that much he knows.

Before he curls up in the sparsely made bed, he thinks of Kurt one more time, hunched over in pain because of _him_. He vows not to let that happen ever again, and tosses and turns until nightmares take him.

He wakes up screaming.

...

**Review? The next chapter is finished, so the more people review the quicker it'll be up :)**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hi guys! Here's chapter 3! :) Thanks to everyone for reading, and I hope you enjoy our first confrontation!

Happy reading!

...

Blaine's first task is simple: extract a statue from New Directions Mission Control (NDMC). He doesn't fight the suit he's given, or the new mask he has to wear now that he isn't loyal to the New Directions anymore (well, not literally). It shouldn't matter anyways, because from now on he'll be seen as the enemy to them, to Kurt, when he's actually trying his best to save them all. The function that easily kills turned out to be a bomb-function, capable of explosions obliterating anything within half of a mile from the bracelet. They wouldn't stand a chance (except for Quinn, with her force field. But even then, the shock may be too much. And who'd want to live through something like that? Not Blaine, certainly).

He slips the mask into place carefully and looks into the mirror. It's fully black, obviously expensive and good quality (as well as protective), and makes him feel like even more of a traitor than he already is. It makes him look dark, powerful, even a little bit sexy. Blaine isn't dark. He isn't powerful, not when he's up against his best friends. And he doesn't want to feel sexy in this situation. It's wrong, disgusting, awful. It's also completely necessary.

"I'm ready," he says to the wall, no inflection in his voice at all. Sebastian can hear him, he can always hear him. He can hear when Blaine screams into his pillow in the middle of the night, and that thought is so perverse and invading that it turns his stomach again and again. When he cries Kurt's name in his sleep, he receives a patronizing smile. _He's not yours to call for anymore._

The past few weeks have been strenuous, involving long hard training and hearty meals to build his strength. He can now fight hand-to-hand and operate a variety of weapons, all while targeting the weaknesses of each member of ND. He feels disgusted with both Sebastian and with himself _all_ the time. There's no break, none whatsoever.

_Perfect_, purrs the voice in his head. He stopped flinching at it five days ago. _Best of luck, Blaine_.

It still feels awful and intrusive, but less so. He has to fight it, but he can't. It's driving him slowly mad. Rather than express any of these sentiments, he makes his way out the door. He pulls on his sleeve, tight on his skin, and his collar. He feels like he's choking.

The car he's going in is sleek, black, sexy, just the way it's supposed to be. Just the way he's supposed to be. This is his new image. This is the image he was forced to take on, because the alternative is unthinkable.

It moves like a jaguar, stealthy and sly and quick, and he taps his foot nervously at every stoplight. He doesn't want to do this. He wants to turn and run away from this because he never asked for it. He doesn't want to, he doesn't want, he doesn'-

He has no other choice.

…

He knows to target Rachel first. She'll be the loudest, yes, but if can take her out quietly she'll be the easiest. Rachel is feisty, but not particularly skilled or violent. Her talent is of memory, and if Blaine shows up she'll spend precious seconds trying to match his image now against his image then, the differences too drastic for her to immediately comprehend. It'll give him just the window he needs to gag her, tie her up (careful, now, we don't want to hurt her) and keep her quiet and out of the way. He can't believe that this is his life now.

He scales the side of the building the way he was taught, avoiding every trap set by Tina. They haven't changed their security system. Why would they? It's been working just fine against other agents and intruders. Why would they need to take precautions against friends?

Blaine takes a moment to collect himself against the sarcastic, burning rage building up inside, threatening to overflow into pure fury. He can't afford to lose it. Not here, not now, not ever. There's way too much at stake.

The third story window is cracked open, just like he thought, because Puck is a baby and can't handle the lack of fresh air. _I need oxygen to fuel the fire,_ he'd say. They'd all just roll their eyes.

He slips in silently. Rachel, he knows, will be in her room. As long as the hallway is empty, he should be able to make it there unnoticed. _Wait_, whispers the voice in his mind, and wait he does. _Mike is in the game room to your left, his back to you. One sound and the entire mission is compromised, and we know what happens then_.

Blaine shivers and nods. Sebastian can see. Mike must be invisible at the moment, then, because he hadn't seen anything when he peeked around the corner. That'll make things harder. He has flour in a bag in his back pocket, though, and he'd like to see the dancer escape _that_. He shakes his head in disgust, but doesn't banish the thought. He clings to both sides of himself instead, and moves through the hallway at a blistering pace until he's standing right in front of a very surprised Rachel Berry.

"Bl-?" is all of the question she gets out before he works his feet again. He rips the rope out from his belt, whirlwinds around her, and ignores her confused, startled, muffled cry in favor of putting her into the closet as comfortably as he can. He tries to convey remorse with his eyes, but her own spark with betrayal. The whole ordeal had taken about four seconds, a definite perk of being so fast that your feet can literally catch on fire.

_Well done, Blaine. I'm impressed. On to the next one, then._ Blaine shuts the door and tries to calm down sufficiently. Next will be Tina, because he needs to take down the security system. A crash comes from his right before he can move, however, and the door is flung open. There stands a boy, baseball bat in hand, eyes wide and frightened while his hands are already sharpening with bits of crystallized moisture.

The boy blinks owlishly, shock painted across his face. "Blaine?" he asks softly, whisper wrapping around his name gently, and his voice is like that of a child's.

_Don't say a word or I'll turn the shock to 10._ Blaine freezes, rigid. Kurt breaks into an uneasy smile and takes a step forward, metal glinting off of his wrist. Blaine wants to kill himself, then and there, wants to let Kurt beat him so he'll be able to get away. _Into the closet,_ commands Sebastian.

_I love you, Kurt_, thinks Blaine, _I swear. _And then he proceeds to grab another rope, another gag, and tie up his lover in the same way he'd debilitate an enemy, watching the wide, blue eyes fill with pain and confusion and sadness.

Kurt fights, at first, and Blaine has to fight back. It isn't his choice. So he moves faster, works quicker, and within mere seconds Kurt is sitting next to Rachel, both of them struggling. Blaine can't even whisper 'sorry' for fear of a reaction from Sebastian.

_Good boy,_ murmurs the voice, and Blaine feels bile rise in his throat.

It takes him two more minutes to find the prize exactly where it was before he left, get out, and scale the building once more, all the while hating himself more tangibly than he ever has in his lifetime.

_Good boy,_ his mind echoes back at him, like some sick twisted form of comfort. He cries that night, soaking his pillow with tears, voices and eyes taunting him until he can't breathe normally, just choking little sobs that rip into his throat. He's feverish and young and terrified, but if he shows that at all the only person he truly loves will pay the price. He wants to give up, to lay it all on the line, but that was never an option.

He doesn't know when this nightmare will end.

...

**Review? :)**


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Today was quite possibly the longest day ever, but I bring to you chapter 4! Here you'll see the results of Blaine's first mission and the beginnings of the next one, as well as some more twisted Sebastian and a heaping dose of angst, as per usual.

Happy reading :)

...

Blaine stays in the car for an extra five minutes after the mission, trying to regain his breath. It's hard enough that he had to tie up and r_estrain_ – oh god he can't believe that just happened – but now he has to get another assignment. And another. And he has absolutely no idea how this is going to end.

"You succeeded," says Sebastian with a mocking smile, "but you also failed half of the assignment. Did I or did I not ask you to disable security?"

Something like fear trickles down his spine. "I didn't need to. I know how to get in and out. It's easy."

"Ah, but they know you've been there. They're probably talking about it as we speak. Their systems will change, their fighting methods will change, their perception of you will change. And that will make things harder. So, in essence, you compromised a small bit of the mission. Which shall not go unpunished."

"Please don't," he breathes, eyes widening. "Please."

The screen comes down. "I didn't mean to," he continues, words running together in his rush to get them out, "I swear, I just panicked. Was I supposed to go search out Tina? I could've compromised even more of the mission! It was a small loss, and it's more of a problem for me than for you. You don't need to do this."

"You," says Sebastian pointedly, "will be quiet. And you won't move a muscle from that position. Or else."

And Blaine can only watch helplessly as Sebastian presses the button, completely nonchalant. Kurt is shocked on level 8 for a solid ten seconds. The cries rip through Blaine's heart and he wants to look away with a fierceness he didn't know he possessed. He knows that if he does, it won't end.

Now, however, ND is watching. Santana is yelling, panicked, and Mercedes is trying to rip off the bracelet, to no avail. Rachel's eyes are flitting around, trying to remember a piece of something she doesn't know. Ice forms around Kurt's fingers, on his nails, sharp points protruding from his palm.

"Stop, stop, stop," Blaine whispers under his breath, like a chant, head in his hands because this is the worst torture imaginable. Sebastian may be sick and twisted, but he's a genius, because if there's any way to break Blaine Anderson, this is definitely it.

"You'll follow my orders exactly - and I mean exactly - from this point on, understand? I have no issues with torturing your friends. They mean nothing to me. They're worthless."

Kurt is still whimpering on the screen, current gone from the bracelet but occasional spasms running through him all the same. He's crying in earnest, tearing at the bracelet with desperation. His nails are icy and his wrist is quickly bloodying, but Kurt doesn't seem to care. All of a sudden his body goes lax, but he's still letting out these little noises. Finn looks ready to throw something into the wall.

"I understand," he says, showing more real emotion than he has in weeks, "I promise. What do you need me to do next?"

"Next, I need you to go to training. We'll discuss your next mission on my terms. You're dismissed."

He runs out of the room, almost tripping over himself in his haste to get out, and is dressed and ready to train in four seconds flat.

…

He's forced to his limits today. Jump, duck, spin before it takes you out. Every weapon is covered in a dull layer of something he can't place, so that every impact bruises but nothing pierces the skin. He'd been completely wrecked after the first week, body battered and weak from the strenuous activity. Now, the soreness in his muscles is simply a dull buzz.

He learned to flip in midair (to perform acrobatics and the like) two weeks ago, and ever since then has been forced to implement this knowledge. He's never been in better physical shape.

Then, of course, comes the mental state of things. He isn't sure that he can handle this for much longer. Indecision tears at him with every turn and he can't let out any emotion at all. He's good at composure, sure, but he's only human. This isn't a game; this isn't some silly acting job with no consequences. If you messed up there, you could stop, reshoot, move on. Here, it causes pain and suffering and he doesn't like the way this song goes. This song about him. Him the burning, him the indecision, him the captor and fighter and hater the way he was never supposed to be. Blaine runs, and that's it. He wasn't built for attacks or offense. He's meant to evade sticky situations, find peace, and above all keep himself safe. He's never been responsible for others for a reason, he thinks. It's why he left home in the first place.

_You're next mission is simple,_ he hears, and the voice jolts him, _just stop a planned attack on the Warbler Headquarters._

He can do that. Just stop an attack. He doesn't have to fight outright, he just has to prevent. He can distract them, or evade them, or tire them out. Within seconds his mind is whirring through the possibilities one by one, all of which would hurt but none of which would hurt as much as he'd expected. It's sad, how much consolation he gets from this realization, but it's there, and it's comfort, and he won't find it anywhere else. He has to settle. And he must do so gladly.

He can't bring himself to smile, but he isn't grimacing anymore, and when he looks into the mirror there's a light in his eyes that wasn't there before. A dull one, yes, but a light all the same. It's certainly better than nothing.

…

He slips the mask and cape on more slowly this time, in less of a rush than before. He started orchestrating a grand escape yesterday. He needs the time. He also needs the remote, because without it problems could arise. Like, say, a mass explosion. So he needs to be patient, look for a way to get the remote, and keep away from the cameras the place is crawling with. Also, finding a way to remove the bracelet would be a plus, because who knows if that remote is the only one? Deep breath. Calm down. No use in panicking.

_All stations are a go, get in the car._

Blaine gets in the car.

_Stop them from getting into headquarters at any cost. This mission cannot afford to be compromised. Hold them off, wait for backup, and drive them away. Once they're all gone (and you're absolutely certain of that fact), come back to the car. It will be waiting for you. One misstep and we test out function number two. Am I understood?_

"Yes," says Blaine, shutting his eyes. His eyebrows knit together. He understands perfectly.

_Oh, and Blaine? We've upped the stakes._

He has no idea what Sebastian could possibly be referring to, but he drives faster than he normally would. The panic is bubbling up again. He's at headquarters, making rounds, when he looks out over the edge of the building. Here come the New Directions.

A flash of silver makes his stomach clench, but when he sees the face it belongs to he suddenly understands. Now, there are four bracelets out there. Not only is he responsible for Kurt; he's responsible for Rachel, Finn, and Santana as well.

A battle cry comes from the ranks below, surely Puck or Finn, the brave-hearted idiots, and he braces himself. Deep breath. Calm down. No use in panicking.

...

**Review?**


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This would've gone up earlier, but FF was being annoying. So it's up now. Sorry for all the cliffhangers! I'm trying to update as quickly as possible, because I had five chapters already written when I started posting. Unfortunately, I haven't finished chapter 6 yet, so we'll see how fast I do! Note: If you have any speculations or ideas for the plotline, I'd love to hear them! I'm always interested to see how other people interpret my stories :)

Happy reading!

...

It's Puck that leads the charge, but Blaine was prepared for this. The ease with which he fizzles out the other boy's flames comes as a shock to all of them, Blaine included. A slim tube of ice water may not have been the most ideal way to do so, but it's relatively painless and quite effective, apparently.

Finn goes in for a punch aimed to maim, if not kill, when Kurt yells, "Stop! Finn!" in a voice that's equal parts shock and panic.

Finn stops. Blaine takes the opportunity to disable him, bindings unbreakable and developed by Sebastian's scientist team, pointedly not thinking about how he's taking advantage of their desperate attempts not to cause unnecessary conflict. They love him, they still do, even after everything that's happened. The thought alone nearly stops Blaine short.

The knots are perfect, and now Finn is helpless, sitting on the ground tied up. The New Directions gape. Rachel runs to kneel by him, but something stops her. Mike, guesses Blaine, but he can't tell for sure seeing that the boy is invisible at the moment.

"Blaine, you don't have to do this," says Mercedes, voice low and warning and gentle all at the same time. "Put the weapons down. Take off the cape, take off the mask, and we'll welcome you right back. You're scaring us. We love you." He swallows hard at that, but keeps his mouth shut and eyes hard. There's no use in giving them false hope, not yet at least. He loves them too, he swears. He just needs to complete the mission, keep his friends safe and alive, and find a way to escape. Three objectives, and three simple ones at that. The hard part is the execution. It's always the execution.

"Blaine, you're scaring us," pipes Rachel from where she is now, behind the rest of the group. Kurt is with her. Apparently they've learned their lesson.

"All right, I'll give you ten seconds to tell us what's going on. Otherwise we're going to have to fight you." Mercedes again. She's trying to keep the peace, but they all look uneasy.

"One," she says, and he realizes she was serious. He takes a step back.

"Two," and her brows furrow. "Three, four."

He can't deal with this anymore. He takes two more steps back and looks around nervously, shaking a little bit. None of them will notice, of course. He's always been good at looking composed.

When Mercedes reaches nine and Blaine still hasn't breathed a word, Quinn puts up a wary force field and Sam takes off into the sky. Soon, he's so high that it's impossible to see him. That could be an issue. Blaine reminds himself to watch out for that, but he also feels immense relief. He probably won't have to fight Sam. Tina presses a button on her belt, but he doesn't know what it does. He isn't sure he wants to know, to be honest. Kurt's fingernails are now as sharp as glass, but he looks absolutely terrified. Rachel is cowering behind Puck, whose skin is still steaming. It won't be long before he manages to heat up again. Brittany and Santana are muttering to each other in the corner, and as Mercedes says ten, things slow down very quickly. Brittany steps forward, first, and Blaine blinks. This wasn't part of the plan.

"We need to stop fighting," she says with confidence, "It's making the animals sad. And the sky and the trees and the ground and _everything_." Santana suddenly appears by Brittany's side, fiercely protective even against someone who used to be their friend.

"_You're not so bad after all, new kid."_

"_Thank you?"_

_She patted him on the shoulder so hard he nearly spit out his drink. "Damn right. You're welcome."_

He can't reconcile the two images of this girl who might not be as sharp as people like to think. Maybe this is what Rachel feels like all the time, like nothing is ever quite right. Like nothing ever matches up.

He doesn't want to fight them. The realization that he might have to comes like a drop of cold water down his spine, and he wishes suddenly that he could be anywhere but here.

_Stalling will get you nowhere, Blaine. I want them out, _breathes Sebastian in his mind, and Blaine feels so invaded right now. Sebastian can't hear his thoughts per se, but it's eerie how on target he is. When things slow down, they must speed up if time is to stay intact. And speed up they do.

Several things happen at once. Pay attention, now, because if you miss one moment you miss it all. First, he hears the crunch of a twig behind him. Next, he sees Puck warming up. And lastly, he notices Santana's eyes, gleaming with something wicked. Had these things happened separately, there wouldn't have been an issue. As things stand, however, Blaine is in a sticky situation. He needs to move. Luckily, he knows how to move, and fast.

Two steps left, duck, turn, backflip using extra force for maximum lift. Whip out a tube of ice water from his belt again, effectively taking Puck out of the equation for the most part. Four tubes remain. Blaine hopes they'll be enough. Puck's still in excellent physical shape though, so he won't be one to count out. Now roll to the right, and quickly, because he can sense Sam swooping downwards.

There are too many of them. He isn't sure how he's going to manage fighting all of them off.

He's going to fail; failure isn't an option. He runs back ten yards, only to be met with a smirking Santana. "Nice try, hobbit," she smirks. He curses under his breath and runs again.

"I can't do this by myself," breathes Blaine, knowing Sebastian can hear him.

_Fight_, says the other man calmly. _You will fight them, and you will win. Check your belt._

Blaine looks down, and gapes. A shiny black pistol is sitting in a loop (and how hadn't he noticed before? He's an idiot, he really is, an idiot-), but it isn't just black, not really. The barrel is glowing red, particles flowing through it like electricity. The name comes to his mind unbidden: a ray gun. What kind, he doesn't know, but the make is expensive and he knows, immediately, that this could do some serious damage.

_Don't just stare like an idiot; use it,_ snarls Sebastian.

And in that moment, things start to click. He has to defend himself in a way that will cause pain, or not defend himself and still cause pain. It's a catch-22 if he ever did see one, and he slips his finger to the trigger without really thinking about it.

He tugs it out of his belt loop fluidly, marveling at how balanced it feels in his hand. It's like it was made for him (and of course it was, you idiot, get yourself together).

Every one of them backs up but Puck. He's still steaming, water droplets evaporating on his skin, so he won't be able to put up much of a fight. Blaine's stomach pangs at his idiotic bravery.

"Well?" asks Puck loudly, throwing out his arms like some twisted parody of a hero, "You gonna shoot or what?"

"Leave and I won't have to," he blurts out, eyes panicked, feet twitching. He can't stop shaking. Standing still was never easy for Blaine.

_Wrong answer_, says Sebastian slyly. Four cries of pain erupt, one cutting above the rest, and Blaine is frozen, blood like ice in his veins. His hands are practically vibrating now, gun wavering enough to give his shot a thirty degree angle from where he would've wanted to aim in the first place.

_Shoot,_ reminds Sebastian coolly, _or it goes up to seven._ Blaine shoots.

And misses by four feet.

_Not good enough_.

He knows.

...

**Review?**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I am so, so, so sorry that this didn't get out sooner. My computer crashed and I almost lost this entire story - cue panic attack - but I managed to fix it and so life is good once again. To everyone who's sticking with this story, I thank you from the absolute bottom of my heart :) Sorry about all of the cliffhangers, but a fic this angsty/dramatic/etc kind of thrives on them!**

**Enjoy!**

...

All of a sudden the attacks come half as frequently and twice as frantic. He's twirling at dizzying speeds, dodging and twisting and trying to stay focused enough to drown out the wailing in his ears long enough to calm down.

"Stop," he mutters, "Stop it. I'm trying, okay? Stop!" and by the last word he's almost shouting. Every sound is directed at Sebastian, but how are any of them supposed to know that? He loses his train of thought when an ice chip flies past his head. An…an ice chip? Then he listens. Things stop. Things start up again, with fighting and shouting and yelling, but the bracelets stop sending electric currents through the wearers. Blaine breathes a sigh of relief internally. An ice chip means that, well, Kurt is fighting now. He's stopped trying to protect Blaine and see the good in him and all of that crap, and it makes sense.

Does it hurt to see the only person who'd given him a chance give up on him? Sure. But is the alternative so much worse? Definitely.

That's how things have been feeling lately, he thinks, like he has to settle for the lesser of two evils every time he makes a decision.

And all of a sudden, things take a turn for the deadlier.

He hears the air moving in a rush behind him, parting for somebody who can move just as fast as Blaine, but not without momentum. He knows, intrinsically, that it must be Sam, but all his body thinks is _enemy_ and without a second thought he turns and pulls the plasma gun from the holster, as if he's being doing it his whole life, and shoots at a forty five degree angle behind him. It's a perfect shot; of course it is. He'd expect no less of himself when faced with a real enemy, especially after all of that backbreaking training. It's finally paying off.

It takes about two beats before the horror sets in. He didn't know Sam all that well, no, but all it takes is one gasp for all of the movement to stop. Kurt's eyes are as wide as saucers, blue and confused and tear-filled (and no, he can't stop watching Kurt, but is that his fault?). Puck is literally shooting flames from his fingertips.

"What the hell, man?" he shouts, and things start to get real. Sam was never the enemy. None of them were and none of them are, but Blaine just crossed the line. Up until this moment, he was still 'man.' He was still friend, still Blaine, still that guy who's been acting weird but it's not his fault.

Now? Things are changing, because Mercedes and Quinn and Rachel are all rushing over to look at Sam and Kurt is rooted to the spot and Puck looks murderous. They're all realizing that maybe Blaine _is_ the enemy after all, and maybe he always was.

He takes the brief respite in fighting to stand on his tiptoes and stretch his neck until he can see Sam over Rachel's fluttering figure. His heart drops at the dirt and grime and darkness that he can only pray aren't burn marks smattering the boy's skin. That's all he is, really: a boy. Blaine feels that telltale pit settling deep in his stomach and through him, somehow, like he's not worth enough to even inhabit. Someone yells his name randomly, helplessly, and Mercedes glares. "That's not Blaine anymore," she spits with venom.

_That's not Blaine anymore_.

The words echo hauntingly because they're true. He wishes he knew who he was. He wishes he knew who he's become. He's a monster; that much is true. But is he salvageable? Is he even worth trying to save?

The answer feels like it should be no when it swirls around his head, but it dissipates too quickly for him to get a proper reading. It could've been a yes, whispers the little hopeful voice in the back of his mind, speaking up because every other part of his is brimming with self-loathing. He could still be him. But one look down at the weapon in his hand brings the hatred crashing straight back.

Blaine wouldn't do that. He wouldn't just shoot someone like that, without even thinking about it. He wouldn't. Would he?

No, he thinks, trying to salvage some tiny part of his sanity, he wouldn't.

The breeze blows hot and sweet into their faces, nothing blocking it from where they are. It's stifling. The concrete and the grass and the trees and the sleekness of the buildings all contrast until his head spins. He feels the tight material of his shirt clinging to his chest, and he can't breathe. He can't. This isn't him.

He's about to bolt when Sam yells out, "WAIT!" and he stops cold. Turns slowly. Looks back.

He isn't even bothered about not being able to see behind him. Somehow, he doesn't think that any of them would hurt him, and how twisted is that? That he doesn't believe that any of them have it in them to kill somebody they used to be friends with while he goes around shooting old acquaintances with a plasma gun like life is just some freaking party and it's at his place. His rules. His everything.

He hates himself so much it's like a tacky layer of glue stuck to his skin. Every time he tries to peel it off another piece of him goes with it, and he's tired of fighting. He's tired of all of this.

_Backup is on the way,_ says Sebastian, and Blaine starts at the intrusion. Okay. Backup. Is that a good thing? He's trying to think but it's hard to when his thoughts are rushing so fast and he's still trying to keep an eye on Sam while being incapable of looking away from Kurt.

…

The Warblers come in a swarm. There are far more than Blaine had anticipated, and his heart sinks. It'll make things easier, though. Just drive them off, right? Right. Of course. No one needs to get hurt.

It hits him a second too late that these soldiers must have powers too, because all of a sudden the ground is shaking, shaking, shaking beneath him.

He mouths 'sorry' at Kurt, because Sebastian _must_ be watching the Warblers (he'd never miss such a grand entrance), and his eyes are wide and apologetic and he nearly adds 'I love you,' but it turns out that the blue-eyed boy wasn't looking at him after all.

Blaine doesn't blame him.

...

**Review?**

Also: what's your favorite part so far? or do you have any speculations as to what could happen next? I love hearing what you guys think!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Finally! If you care about why this is so late, read on! If not, skip ahead and enjoy! :)**

**Why this is so late: I hate making excuses, but this week was so incredibly stressful for me. School was insane, track took off out of nowhere (my coach decided I'm varsity material - I disagree), and soccer had multiple practices on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. I hope a longer chapter makes up for that at least a little bit! Needless to say, I'm pretty much drained. The good news: I'm on spring break! That means that I'll have more time to write this week. Thank goodness. To those of you that are still here, and still reading, thank you so, so, so much for not giving up on this story. I love you guys like crazy!**

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine**

**Enjoy! :)**

...

Blaine finds out quickly enough that Jeff can shake the ground and more; he can bring up chunks of it and create dips and riddle it with holes like Swiss cheese. Nick's jumps are more like flying leaps, and Blaine swears that his legs _stretch_ out in front if him as he does so. All of it is surreal, because Blaine wants to shout out at the Warblers _get out of here, go, turn back! Can't you see that Sam's already hurt?_

But he wouldn't dare.

"New Directions," booms Thad, second in command to Sebastian and owner of a wicked control over liquid of any kind. He could freeze the blood in everyone's veins right now if he wanted to. It's pretty much the only reason he has so much power; that, and his admittedly eloquent way with words. "You have two choices: surrender; or stay and fight outnumbered against some of the most powerful, thoroughly trained opponents you'll ever have to face. Choose wisely," he tacks on mildly, self-satisfied smile firmly in place. He won't be shaken. He's never been defeated, after all; the confidence has to come from somewhere.

Blaine falls back into rank, eager to take the attention off of himself, if only for a moment. The prying eyes of the warblers continue to burn his back, though, and it's not like he expected Finn to just say _sure, we give up, we quit._

Several people try to speak up at the same time, and Rachel shouts over all of them with a quick, "Give us just one minute to get back to you!" that leaves everyone surprised but Blaine. Thad is agape. Blaine would have to stifle a grin if the situation were different, but as it stands he just feels exhausted. He's so tired of having to not care about the only people that really love him while caring so much it hurts. It's draining. He feels like he can barely move anymore.

While ND is grouped together in some pathetic parody of a team huddle, the Warblers seem relatively nonplussed by it all. Aside from the astonishment at the way they'd been initially written off, their arrogance seems entirely intact.

Blaine watches the way the skin on the nape of Kurt's skin meets golden brown hair in a kiss. He watches the taut stress of the tendons in his back, and the way his voice rises above the rest, quick and anxious and tense. He watches because he can, and he feels like a terrible, awful person for doing so (because what right does he have?) but he can't bear to look away.

Soon enough, Rachel steps up. Sam is on his feet by this point in time, wincing and leaning heavily on his right leg, an arm wrapped around his scorched torso. "Warblers!" shouts Rachel, practically vibrating with nervous energy. "We have made a decision! We will give this raid up if you give us Blaine Anderson, the former member you stole from us! Blaine is family to us, no matter what kind of mind tricks you've pulled on him!" Every sentence is a shout, and her eyes are bright and almost manic, in a way. This is the Rachel Berry Blaine remembers. A few scattered people nod after her speech, most notably Mike and Artie.

Blaine forgets to breathe for a minute. He meets eyes with Rachel and her smile is small and shaky but it's _there_. They're still trying to help him. They still think he's actually worth something and he can't believe this.

_Please_, he thinks, _please let me go_.

Yeah, right. That'll fly with Sebastian.

Thad speaks up again, "That was not an option! Are you prepared to battle?"

And all of a sudden the hope that had filled Blaine seconds before is crushed to the ground. This isn't some cute little fairytale fantasy. He isn't some hero. He's quite the opposite in this situation, actually, and just because Rachel and Mike and Artie think he isn't totally evil yet doesn't mean he isn't. He'll get there, he knows it, he just doesn't know when or how. It's a terrifying thing, but it's real. This is real life. He needs to figure that out, and _now_, or he'll never find an escape from this hell.

"Why do you want him, anyways? I know he didn't ask for this, so don't try to pull that on us. You could have taken any of us; why him? Why?" It's so wildly unexpected that Blaine flinches at the voice. Kurt's eyes are wide and blue and a little bit terrified. He's clearly sleep deprived if the dark, hollowed circles are any indication, and he's still tense.

It's what Blaine has noticed every time he's stolen a glance. Kurt is tense and stressed and determined to keep his composure.

_Kurt, _he wants to shout suddenly, _Stop it! You'll get yourself killed saying things like that!_

But it's not like has any power here. He's just a pawn in the ultimate game, to be honest. It's a good question, though. Why Blaine? He was the new kid. Most of the group didn't even know him all that well when everything was blown to bits.

"This wasn't his _choice_," continues the other boy, and Blaine's fists are turning white from how hard he's clenching them. "Just let him go and we won't come back. Ever. Okay? Are you happy? Do you count this as some sick sort of win?"

No one expects what happens next, least of all Blaine. Sebastian's voice in his head has been notably absent in the past few minutes, but apparently that isn't some coincidence. The air is moving, moving, moving, practically lifting people from the ground, and the blades are whirling through the air, and the sound is deafening, and Blaine doesn't know why he's surprised because Sebastian always did enjoy a dramatic entrance. Twenty-five heads swivel as one, and Sebastian's smile is wider than the sun as he steps off of the helicopter.

"Well, I couldn't miss this fight, could I?" he asks grandly, and Blaine is already shaking his head and backing up. This can't be happening right now, none of this can be happening. Every once in a while he gets these feelings, like everything is crashing over him in an overwhelming wave, and he can't breathe.

This is one of those moments, because he hears in his head _you're not the only one I can talk to_, and all hell breaks loose as Rachel gasps, and grabs Finn, and whispers in his ear just as Puck turns a bright bright red and Kurt's eyes widen to the size of saucers.

"You're lying!" he shouts, eyes still blindingly blue, "You're lying!"

"But I'm not," smirks Sebastian, clearly happy with this reaction. Blaine wants to hit something. "He could've left a long time ago, but he chose not to. Why do you think he stuck around so long? And why else would he help take down your operations time and time again? Maybe it's because he's actually _moved on_ in-"

"Stop!" shouts Blaine, heart pounding erratically. They must be able to hear it.

Everybody stops.

All eyes are on him, and he can feel his neck burning until it's as red as a signal light. This is the moment where he fixes things. This is the moment where things go back to normal, where everyone knows that this wasn't his choice, where he's set free.

"I didn't ask for this," he starts shakily, "You guys have to know that. I'm trying my best to do what I think is right, and it's not like it's easy, okay?" He coughs a little as the words get caught in his throat. The silence is deadly. The breath he draws is murky. Situations crash through his mind and he tears them all down with a confession: "I don't know what to do."

He'd say more, wants to say more, _needs_ to say more, but the remote is sitting right in Sebastian's pocket and one false move could compromise everything.

One. False. Move. Could. Compromise. Everything.

Like he hasn't heard _that _enough lately.

"Just come back," tries Rachel, a sad hopeful smile stretched across her lips, and for one reckless second he wants to shout _yes_ until the entire world hears him. He wants to break free and forget the Warblers and live happily and fly across the ground the way he used to; lately he's been contained, monitored, but all he wants is a stretch of nothing before him and a chance to really run.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, when Sebastian cuts off the conversation smoothly. "Are we going to fight or not? My sidekick has said enough, I think. Let's get moving before I get bored and blow you all up."

Blaine feels some crushing sense of disappointment in his gut, and realizes bitterly that some small part of him had clung onto hope. It's too dangerous to do that, but he never claimed to care about his own safety. He never claimed to care at all. Rachel's face falls at the silence, he notices distantly.

Finn is about to step up when Quinn stands. "No," she decides firmly, and some gape. "Sam is hurt, we're low on…_everything_, to be honest, and we're hopelessly outnumbered. Not today, Warblers." She helps Sam up from where he'd taken a seat on the grass, allowing him to lean heavily on her, throws up a weak force field, and begins to lead him away. The rest of the group follows.

"Well, they're nothing if not spontaneous," remarks Thad boredly. Blaine knows; the New Directions are unexpected. It's the only way they're still a force to be reckoned with. They aren't the best trained, or the most dedicated, or the most refined, but they are nearly impossible to predict. It's saved Blaine's life once before.

_Maybe they can do it again,_ he thinks wistfully, looking back at the battlefield, now pockmarked with little indentations. You'd miss them if you didn't know what'd happened.

They aren't much to look at that, but they exist. They show the horrors of the day. They show the disputes, the indecision, the pain and the sorrow. They show Blaine's story, really.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, then looks ahead of them. The Warblers are moving with deadly precision toward a fleet of cars. He never asked for this, but he has to play along, so maybe he will.

He doesn't look back once.

...

**Review?**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hello! I'm alive, I promise! Here is Chapter 8 - delayed but completed. Life has, once again, gotten in the way of writing. It tends to do that, which sucks. Thanks again to everyone who has been sticking with this story; you're the greatest :) Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee**

...

When they get back to base, Blaine feels absolutely and utterly exhausted. He hasn't been himself lately, going through the motions and trying his hardest not to think about anything. His feet feel like bricks, his legs like lead, and if that isn't ironic nothing is.

"You learn fast," says Sebastian condescendingly, and Blaine resists the urge to spit at his feet. It'll get him nowhere. He knows this, he knows this, he knows this. The urges never subside, though. He lets himself daydream of a place where he can tell Sebastian what he actually thinks about this whole hostage/blackmail/whatever this situation is and he can fight back to break this chain of terrible awful things he has to deal with lately.

"Are you ready for your next mission, then?" he asks, and Blaine doesn't even have to try to bite back a sarcastic remark because of his shock. Granted, he's only carried out a handful of missions, but they've never been nearly this close to one another.

"What is it?" he finally speaks up, curiosity winning out over contempt. Something turns in his stomach. Again. He's getting tired of this, and fast, but what can he do?

"We're officially taking over the NDHQ. I want no mercy. If someone gets in your way, you get them _out_ of your way, or I'll do it for you."

Blaine's mouth goes dry, his hands start to shake, he wants to run. The walls of this room seem too close, like they're squeezing inward with every breath he takes.

"Be ready Tuesday morning," finishes Sebastian with a tiny little smirk (and oh, how Blaine wants to wipe it off of his face), and Blaine tries to be thankful that it's only Saturday but he can't be because he only has a few days before he'll probably see some of his friends die right in front of him. And no, it won't be his fault, but there's no way he'll be thinking that rationally when it actually happens. He's already feeling eaten alive with guilt about burning Sam. The ray just skimmed his torso, but he seemed to be doing all right. Not a hundred percent by any means, but alive, and that has to count for something. Right?

He trudges back to his room, legs dragging for the first time in _ages_. Blaine Anderson does not drag his feet. Blaine Anderson leaps and bounds and skips and sprints and flies; he does not trudge. He whirls through the air because that's just what he does, okay? Just…just not today. Not today.

…

Sunday passes in a blur, a couple of meals mixed in with more training and introduction to a few weapons. Nothing new, really, and he yawns that day more than he ever has before, struggling to keep his eyes open. That night, though, something changes. Something major.

He gets to bed on time, lying there numbly and trying not to fall asleep because the nightmares have just kept getting worse. He kicks at the sheets a little, restless from being cooped up, because he was made to _run_, not jump or punch or fight.

Suddenly, a whisper from his left. "Blaine?"

He starts, head snapping to the side in a pointless effort to identify the intruder. The room is pitch black. "Yeah?" he whispers back, heart pounding. He hears a shuffle of footsteps coming towards him and rushes to scramble into a sitting position, breaths too loud in the cool dark quiet surrounding them. "Who are you?" he demands softly, voice wavering.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," replies the decidedly male voice, and Blaine tries to relax but he's still on edge. "It's Jeff." More shuffling, a too-loud scuff, and suddenly there's a hand on his arm. Blaine jumps a little but doesn't remove it.

"What do you want?" he asks, hoping and hoping and then telling himself not to hope. It isn't worth it. This could be a trap, he knows.

Blaine hears Jeff take a deep breath and realizes that maybe he isn't the only nervous one in this situation. "I want to help you," he says a little louder, not quite a whisper anymore, "I want to get you out of here. I have a plan."

And with those words, all of Blaine's worries about traps are thrown out the window. Jeff has a plan. A plan to help Blaine escape. A plan to save the New Directions and stop Sebastian and maybe even take down the Warblers – the very Warblers that Jeff is supposed to be a loyal member of.

"Why are you doing this?" he finally asks after a moment.

"Because it's not fair that you're stuck in this position. No one deserves this."

Blaine wants to question him and he wants to trust him entirely. He does neither. "What's your plan?"

A small _snap_ in the hall causes both of the boys to nearly jump out of their skin, and with a quick, "I'll tell you tomorrow," Jeff is gone.

Blaine gets almost no sleep that night, instead opting to stare at his ceiling and wonder why a boy as honestly _good _as Jeff would join the Warblers in the first place.

…

A fragment of a dream:

The first thing he knows is heat. Hot. Burning, even. Sweltering. He opens his eyes, looks around, notices that he's wearing a Warbler uniform though he can't for the life of him figure out where he is. All he sees is light and all he feels is heat until he hears someone calling his name. _Blaine! Blaine!_ He swivels, because he knows that voice, but he can't find the source. _Kurt? _He shouts, but he isn't heard. He runs and runs and runs until his feet hurt and his legs are like jello (that never happens, ever) and he wants to give up but he can't. Kurt needs him. The light is overwhelming, but he doesn't stop moving. Even after he has to sit down, he looks back and forth, exhausted but willing to try.

It's his last thought before he wakes up. He can't give up. He can't.

…

Jeff doesn't stop by the next day. Blaine waits, and waits, and waits to see a wisp of blonde approach him, but it doesn't happen. He doesn't even have to fight the urge to cry. He just nods to himself, having expected the worst.

It's doesn't make it hurt any less.

...

**Review?**


	9. Chapter 9

**a/n: hello, hello! I'm alive, I swear! Writer's block is eating me alive when it comes to poetry as far as this week has been concerned, so my morale was a little low coming into this chapter. Hopefully it clears up soon! Either way, I hope you enjoy this latest installment of the ever-uplifting and darling, i'll suffer alone! To those who reviewed: you're angels. It wouldn't let me reply (sigh computer challenged) but i wanted to say thanks so much for keeping me in check. YOu're the reason I'm still writing this! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee**

...

Tuesday morning and the sun is low, low, low in the sky. He's awake, but he doesn't want to be. Not by a long shot. A ray of light crawls through his dingy old window and he shies away from it, tugging the sheets higher over his body. He'll need to get up in a moment, lest Sebastian invade his mind and convince him to do so anyways. He just wants to enjoy this, this warmth and the vague notion that things are going to be okay.

Of course, all moments pass, and soon enough he's groaning and shoving the blankets off of his over-heated body, throwing his legs haphazardly over the side of the mattress, running a hand through his unruly hair. He looks in the cracked mirror, then, and marvels at how small he is. His waist has always been narrow, but he swears he's wasting away. There are bags under his eyes, and he's hunched little, and he's never looked so young in his own eyes.

He's just a kid, really. Still just a kid.

…

"Perk up," insists Sebastian, "This is where the fun begins."

Blaine is eating breakfast now, eyes shooting to where the other boy is standing, tall and lanky, in the doorway. He's leaning against the wooden frame in a casual manner, and that alone is a bit frightening. It's as if the prospect of killing is one that can be discussed over oatmeal with no problem. It's no big deal. Just a couple of lives. What are they in the grand scheme of things?

"When do we leave?" asks Blaine so flatly it barely passes for a question.

Sebastian just chuckles and checks his watch. "Always the eager one," he smirks, "aren't you? We leave in two hours. Don't be late," he tacks on, but Blaine knows not to be late. He isn't sure he could convince himself to be late if he tried.

Two hours, then. Two hours to find Jeff or develop a plan on his own; either way, he isn't planning on going into battle with ND without at least some safeguard against actually having to hurt them.

He isn't sure if he can forgive himself for what he's done so far anyways, but at least this way he has a chance of doing so. If he really, truly hurts someone he loves, he knows that he'll never recover from that. Not that he'd want to.

Sometimes he just wants to take the easiest way out he knows. He wants to tell himself that it'll be okay, that they won't miss him, that he needs to just end it before more people end up getting hurt.

It's a shame he's so difficult to persuade, then.

…

An hour of searching later, Blaine is about ready to tear his hair out when he finally sees Jeff. His dilemma: Jeff is in the middle of a large huddle of Warblers, the majority of which Blaine is going to guess _aren't _in on the plan.

Whatever the plan is. If there even is a plan anymore. If he didn't just dream it all up in the first place.

The room is open and spacious, in a wing of the Dalton HQ he hasn't ventured much into. The walls are wood, the floor is wood, the tapestries are richly woven and the light is all gold. It's deceptively free, but Blaine has never felt so trapped. The windows might as well be barred.

He takes a breath that sinks right through his toes and steps across the room with more confidence than he honestly feels. There's a little bit of a stir when they notice him, and as he arrives the faces of the other boys are a little bit amused and a little bit skeptical.

"Your order of business?" asks Thad, eyes narrowed to slits.

Blaine chokes on his words for a minute, but he has a cover prepared. "Sebastian wanted me to come get Warbler Jeff, apparently they need to talk about some stuff for today's mission." He only stutters once.

"And you need to accompany him because…?" comes the lilting reply from Thad. Blaine gulps.

"I don't know, okay?" he finally decides to say, "I don't know anything anymore."

It's as close to the truth as he's been for quite a while now, and the look of distress on his face must be enough to convince the Warblers, because Jeff steps forward and the others turn right to back to talking about whatever it is they were talking about in the first place.

They've taken only a few steps when Jeff murmurs _impressive _and Blaine's heart rate starts to drop again.

"You said you had a plan," he says flatly. "I want to hear it."

Jeff takes a deep breath, sucking the warmth right out of the air, and without even realizing it he digs a few pockmarks into the ground around their feet. The resulting effect is barren, desolate, and broken. "Listen, Blaine," he starts slowly, looking at the floor. A crack springs up beneath his shoes where they're planted. "I've been thinking, and I really, really want you to get out of here. Partially because, well, so do I."

Blaine's eyes widen a little. That was…unexpected, to say the least, but it makes sense. He scuffs a shoe on the floor and waits.

"Listen, we need to do this quick, okay?" Jeff says, picking up the conversation where he'd dropped it a moment before, "Sebastian is smarter than he looks." Blaine knows. Oh, he knows. "So this is what's going to happen…"

He goes on to explain the plan, and Blaine is astounded by the level of thought the other boy has put into this. It's so dangerous, so incredibly dangerous, but if they can pull it off, well, they have a chance at freedom. And a chance is all Blaine ever asked for. Jeff's eyes might get a little crazy while he's talking, but it's a chance.

"Deal," says Blaine, without thinking, and they're shaking on it, both with crazy eyes now, and neither with a clue of what the day will hold in store. The ground beneath their feet shakes a little, and with a little _careful, Jeff,_ they part and go their separate ways.

…

Twenty minutes later, and Blaine is shaking. His face in the mirror is supposed to be hard, unforgiving, cruel, but the cracks are starting to show. Tendrils of fear and caring and nerves and anger all bursting through in the set of his jaw and his stance and his eyes, _God, his eyes_, they're so expressive that he just wants to keep them shut. Kurt used to tell him that he knew how Blaine was feeling before Blaine even opened his mouth. For both of their sakes, he hopes Kurt was exaggerating, because one slip-up and everything could be compromised.

Why does it feel, all of a sudden, like he's Atlas? Like the weight of the world is pressing, pressing, pressing down on his shoulders, even when (especially when) he never asked for it to be like this?

He still doesn't understand. All he knows is that he wants it to end. And soon. Please, please let it be soon.

_Show time,_ says Sebastian, cutting through his thoughts, and with a sigh so heavy he swears it shakes the room and colors the air, he shuts his eyes, pushes back his shoulders, and hopes for the best.

_I'm coming for you, Kurt,_ he thinks, _I'm getting out of here. I swear._

_..._


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: endless apologies for the lateness of this. it's the longest chapter so far, though, so maybe that helps? I swear to you I'm not giving up on it, as you can hopefully see by the fact that chapters are still coming out, albeit slowly. school has been kicking my butt, and soccer is everywhere, but summer starts in just over a week for me and i'll finish this story up then. i'm thinking right around 15 or 16 chapters should just about do it :) thanks so much for sticking with me if you're still reading this story, and thanks for being lovely, sweet, kind readers in general! mwah kisses on all of your faces**

**disclaimer: characters are not mine (sad face)**

**...**

An hour later and things are falling; falling apart, falling together, falling to pieces – what difference does it make anymore? He's trying to keep his cool, he really is, but he's falling so hard he can't tell whether up is down or left is right anymore. He just tries to move forward as best he can, keeping up with the Warblers (or at least moving within their ranks). The eerie precision with which they move is unsettling to Blaine. They're are nearly emotionless, as well trained as any army, the sky is brighter than it has the right to be, and all around him there is falling.

He can't stop shaking his leg. Tremors run through his body, but his leg is the most jittery, bouncing up and down, throwing off his timing – now there exists a separate tap with every thud of a unified footfall, a separate cough with every gushing exhale, a separate fluttering with every stead pound of a hundred hearts working as one. He's the off-beat.

"Quit it," mutters Jeff, "You'll give us away," but it's barely a breath, and Blaine pretends not to hear easily enough. His leg shakes on.

They keep walking, because apparently this attack is as direct as possible and cars are unnecessary, or something like that; Blaine stopped paying attention two seconds into Sebastian's lecture, instead torturing himself with all of the ways tonight could go wrong. Just five seconds difference could mean the blood of a friend on his hands, a kill to tally up, red dripping off of his ledger in streams, because how can you make up for something you'll never forgive yourself for?

Now, as they're marching, all he can see with every step is a face of someone he loves, and it looks something like this: _Kurt Rachel Kurt Finn Kurt Puck Sam Kurt Santana Kurt Brittany Mercedes Mike Tina Kurt Artie Quinn Kurt Kurt Kurt _and so on and so forth, until there's an ache spreading through his chest that wasn't there before. He wants to meet Jeff's eye, but to do so could be catastrophic, and he's been told not to compromise missions so often in the past weeks that he physically can't bring himself to turn his head. Maybe that's for the better, in the end, because within seconds the Warblers stop moving. Halted like that, Blaine hesitates. He knows this part of the plan, he does, he just doesn't want to have to go through with it.

_Go on, Blaine. _ Sebastian's voice cuts into his thoughts, startling him, and he doesn't think he'll ever get used to this kind of invasion of privacy. He takes a shaking step forward, and then another, until he's walking quickly away from backup and toward the HQ (and the people inside, the people he wants to save) that won't make this any easier for him.

He's nearly on top of the building when he's spotted by a camera – Tina's new invention, no doubt – and quickly ducks out of the way and runs around to the other side of the wall, feet flying underneath him, wind biting his skin, hair unmoving from where he's gelled it out of the way. All is as it should be, and for one blissful moment he forgets entirely that he's simply _playing _hero. Which is, of course, when Jeff breaks rank, and things begin to fall in earnest.

…

Alarms blare, and it's so unexpected he nearly jumps right out of his skin. As it is, he's thrumming with adrenaline, and all of the fire running through his veins just pushes him to move faster. He's never moved at this kind of reckless, breakneck speed before, at least not that he can remember, and it's thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

He hears a shout behind him, but he can't be bothered to turn around. He's nearly to his place when he's stopped by an angry Puckerman, arms crossed and feet shoulder-width apart, little sparks and embers shooting from his fingertips. Blaine skids to a stop and takes a step back.

"Move or I'll have to kill you," says Blaine evenly, standing his ground. Soon enough, the chaos will subside enough for Sebastian to take notice of his actions. He just hopes Jeff bought him enough time to deal with the New Directions first.

"What if I kill you first?" There's a belligerent tone present in Puck's voice, though he also sounds slightly amused.

Blaine heaves a sigh, checks over his shoulder, and begins to talk in a low, rushed tone. "Listen, I'm on your side, okay? I got caught, and they forced me to help them, but I'm trying to fight for you as much as I can without getting all of us killed. So let me through before he forces me to kill you, or I swear you won't see tomorrow." Puck cocks an eyebrow at that. "I have reinforcements," reminds Blaine, and after one more moment of hesitation (one they can't really afford, but we'll get to that later), Puck shouts "DON'T SHOOT THE HOBBIT!" through the door and up the stairs and steps to the side.

Blaine doesn't even have time to be bewildered, instead dashing inside, ignoring the rumblings of the earth beneath his feet. They're a good thing, he tells himself, Jeff is doing his job, it's okay, don't worry, things will be fine.

He speeds up his pace, blindly flying up the stairs –

- only to run smack-dab into one of the many people he needed to find.

"Kurt," he breathes out, so relieved he wants to sink to the floor. The other boy seems unharmed, standing warily but not putting up much of a fight.

Kurt opens his mouth, then closes it again, and the conflict in his eyes is overwhelming. "Are you going to hurt them?" he finally asks, tight-lipped, and Blaine's reply of _no no of course not I couldn't I won't I swear_ comes out garbled and all the more rushed for its sincerity.

He wants to ask _do you trust me? _To tack it onto the end like he would any other day. But the answer would be no, and justifiably so, and Blaine can't bear to set himself up for that kind of pain right now. Besides, it's not like he has time. "I swear, I'm trying to help here, _please_ just trust me," he implores once more before throwing himself past Kurt and moving on. No icicles strike his back, and a dagger isn't currently skewering him, so that's a victory.

He needs to find and gain at least a tiny bit of trust from all four of them – the ones with the bracelets (Kurt, Finn, Santana, Rachel) – before Jeff can't keep the Warblers occupied any longer. Blaine knows that it's entirely possible they'll both be dead by the end of the night, truly, but if he frees his friends and defeats Sebastian then maybe it'll all have been worth it after all.

The main floor of headquarters looks largely the same as when he was here last, from what he can gather from the images flashing by either side of him. Still an open hall with a game room at the end, white walls, rooms branching off and running deeper through a system more complicated than you'd think if you hadn't lived here for months before being kidnapped (or something like that, anyways). It's too light, too empty, too cool and fresh and safe, and he realizes one second too late that he's being set up. Once he figures that out and gets into gear to _run,_ he feels something cool against his neck. "Don't move," snarls Santana from where she'd popped up right in front of him, and damn her ability to teleport because he'd been stupid enough to forget entirely. Mike, of course, is holding the knife (and no, he didn't count on invisibility being an obstacle because Mike had been his best friend, and maybe it was a little naïve but he thought he could be forgiven more quickly than this, at any rate).

"Please," he gasps, out of breath from running harder than he really ever has before, "we don't have time. If you kill me, this will all have been worth nothing. We don't have time, _please_, I need to get out of here and find Tina, _now_."

Which is probably not the right thing to say when Tina's boyfriend still views you as a mortal threat, but he's kind of short on time here.

"Why?" asks Mike, still gentle but words sharper than Blaine is used to.

"Because I'm trying to help you, and if you don't let me go this instant you'll all be dead by morning. And I will be, too."

Santana's in the process of saying _no way, no, hell no,_ when Mike tells Blaine (hushed into his ear, of course) to make it quick and not hurt Tina or he'll have to pay, and releases him. Blaine is gone, out of the room before Santana can even protest the decision.

Tina must be in the command room, she _must_ be. He skids up another flight of stairs (the one at the opposite end of the hall from the first), makes a left and a right, and finds himself right in front of the door he needs. It's white, blank, dispassionate and daunting. It takes a steady, grounding breath before he's ready to step forward, right up to it.

He pushes the door open, and that's really when it all goes to hell.

**...**

**Review?**

**(PS: what do you think Jeff is doing to distract the Warblers for so long? Why does Blaine need Tina? Will he ever gain back the trust of ND? i'd love to hear your guesses! you'll find out these answers next chapter, by the way :))**

**(PPS: if you want to talk to me about this story or anything, really, you can PM me or find me on tumblr at abrokenkindofperfect. i love meeting new people! 3)**


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